


Kissed, and Found Me Dead

by Thousand_Ribbons (Meridians_of_Madness)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Broken Bones, Dark, Demon Aziraphale (Good Omens), Genital formation, Humiliation, M/M, Mindfuck, Oral Sex, Other, Overstimulation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reverse Omens, Threats, Vaginal Fingering, reverse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22768780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meridians_of_Madness/pseuds/Thousand_Ribbons
Summary: “I'm a romantic. I like my partners sweet and calm, grateful for what I give them. Isn't that nice of me?”-Filled for the kink meme prompt locatedhere.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 188
Collections: Good Omens Kink Meme





	Kissed, and Found Me Dead

Aziraphale knew that the lines were being redrawn sooner rather than later, but it wasn't like Hell was ever very good at getting information up to its field agents on Earth. He was used to avoiding Heaven's forces, getting by with an ear to the ground and a little help here and there from various contacts.

At the end of the day, Aziraphale supposed that the hows of it did not truly matter. He didn't have time to think about _how_ he had gotten trapped in Heavenly territory. He just needed to make sure that he slipped the line as soon as he could, getting back to neutral ground or even to Hell-controlled Byblos.

With every step, Aziraphale could tell that the land no longer welcomed him. Heaven had moved in, likely with an archangel or two given how the air weighed him down. From the way the ground stung when he put his hand down to it, he guessed that it might have been Michael or Gabriel, perhaps even both of them. Either way, it meant nothing good, and he needed to get away as soon as he could. The presence of Heaven in the region was already beginning to sap his powers, drawing them down an absolute low ebb.

Still he thought he was doing all right until the moon rose bright as day over the hills, and a winged shadow fell over him, pacing him, too large to be anything but...

Aziraphale knew with painful certainty that he couldn't fight, so the only choice left was to flee. One sweep of snowy white wings pushed him from the ground, another got him aloft, but then a stunning force crashed into him from behind, driving him back to the sawblade grass. He felt something snap in the hand he threw down to cushion the blow. The lancing pain from the side of his right hand up his elbow made him scream through gritted teeth, and then he was hauled around, pinned to the grass and looking up at a familiar grin and a fall of red hair.

“Well, well,” Crowley said with amusement. “Look who didn't get the memo.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale hissed. “Let me up at once, there's no _reason...”_

“Oh I think I had better not, not when Zadkiel and his squad are just over that next rise. Surely you've heard of them?”

Aziraphale shuddered, because he had. Hell had its butchers, and so did Heaven.

“No, I think I had better keep you right here until the danger is passed,” Crowley said with a wink. “Can't have my favorite demon getting himself in trouble all because he was too silly to see who's taken what recently.”

“You might have told me,” Aziraphale said balefully. The break in his hand throbbed, and Crowley passed his own hand over it, a wave of cold swamping out the pain. It was still broken; the angel hadn't seen fit to heal it, but for the moment, it wasn't causing him active agony. He could think a little better, even if he didn't like the conclusions he was drawing as he did so.

“S'pose I might have, but then what? Then you might have decided that we were just ducky after that little stunt you pulled in Leucotheon.”

“I _left_ ,” Aziraphale said through gritted teeth. “You were being... tiresome, and I _left.”_

“Without so much as a goodbye or a by your leave...”

“I don't owe either to you, angel,” Aziraphale spat, and then Crowley's hand closed over his, the injured one, squeezing just hard enough to make him groan.

“Wrong, demon,” Crowley murmured. “Very wrong, and here you are, silly thing, trapped behind enemy lines while I'm irked with you.”

“Crowley...”

“Now, now,” Crowley said, his voice suddenly far colder. “It was _Crowley_ back in Leucotheon when we were friendly. This is Heaven's territory, and you don't know my name, do you?”

Aziraphale glared at him, and Crowley reached up to stroke his curls with an almost tender touch.

“Tell me,” he said encouragingly. “What am I?”

Aziraphale growled, and Crowley reached up to land a soft slap on his face.

“Just for anyone listening, of course,” he said with a wink. “Now tell me. What am I?”

“... Dominion.”

“Very good. Yes, I am a Dominion doing my duty for God and Host, and I have caught a demon. What shall I do with you, hm?”

“Let me go?” Aziraphale suggested, and Crowley gave him a wolfish grin.

“Ask me nicer than _that_ ,” he said.

Aziraphale opened his mouth- just another one of Crowley's silly little games, he had been playing them for centuries- but before he could say anything, Crowley's hand came down to squeeze him between the legs, making him gasp instead.

“That's nice,” Crowley commented. “Maybe _that's_ what I need to console myself after you left me in Leucotheon.”

A wave of cold horror swept over Aziraphale as Crowley started to pull his robes up to his hips. They had... they had flirted. They had touched, kissed, done things they both decided they were better off forgetting in light of their position. They had never done this.

“No,” he hissed, twisting away or trying to, but Crowley, with Heaven manifest on his side, simply pinned him more securely to the hard ground.

“Calm down, Aziraphale,” Crowley said. “This needn't hurt. You only need to take what's coming to you like a good boy.”

There was still a part of Aziraphale that didn't understand, that refused to understand. Crowley was... Crowley wasn't his friend, no. They couldn't be friends. They were too different, too often working at cross-purposes. However, they had been together since practically the beginning of the world, and that counted for something. Until now, he had never, ever believed that Crowley could be his enemy.

“You _can't...”_

“ _You_ shouldn't have left me,” Crowley responded, finally baring Aziraphale below the waist.

Before Aziraphale could respond to that,Crowley snugged his still-clothed body between Aziraphale's thighs, rocking slightly before leaning down to kiss him.

It should have felt like a normal kiss, a silly thing exchanged over wine in some other world. Mostly kissing Crowley felt like playing with fire, like getting away with something. Now though, spread out under the full moon in Heaven's territory, Aziraphale could only feel the assault, the dominion's greed and lust and savagery. He suffered it for a moment, and then abruptly turned his head away, kicking from the ground in an attempt to buck Crowley off.

“No,” he hissed. “No. I won't, I won't _allow...”_

He gasped as Crowley's power bound him to the ground. Now he was unable to lift his head from the earth or his hands from his sides. He couldn't close his legs. He wasn't sure he could close his eyes.

“Dominions never lie, demon,” Crowley said casually. “So believe me when I tell you that I have no interest in rape.”

Aziraphale growled. Crowley ignored him.

“I'm a _romantic_. I like my partners sweet and calm, grateful for what I give them. Isn't that nice of me?”

He shook his head as if at his own foolish goodwill.

“However,” he continued, “if you insist on struggling and crying and pretending you're being forced, I could simply call Zadkiel and his squad over here instead. They certainly don't mind a little rough play, even if I think they're hard on their toys.”

“ _No_...”

“Do you like saying no, Aziraphale?” Crowley asked earnestly. “You're a demon, maybe that's the only way you can get off, begging for mercy as a cadre of Heaven's finest fucks you raw...”

Aziraphale shook his head. Crowley nodded, leaning down to kiss his damp cheek.

“Then you had better show me how very grateful you are right now,” he advised.

It cost him something he didn't know he still had to reach up and to draw Crowley down for a kiss. It felt wrong, but not how he thought it would.

No, it felt wrong because he was a demon, and the first thought that flashed through his mind was that he couldn't _do_ this to Crowley. He had never been foolish enough to believe the angel an innocent, but still there was something in him that was perhaps overawed with Crowley's unfallen state. There was some piece of him that looked at Crowley and saw somethings unspoiled, something inviolate.

It was why he had fled at Leucotheon, because what they had done, for all of Crowley's whispered encouragements, for all the need that set them both on fire, it had felt like a rape. It had felt as if his very touch was somehow contaminating the angel, fouling him, staining him beyond repair.

The irony was not lost on him now.

Crowley purred into his mouth, resting his weight more firmly on top of Aziraphale's body as he deepened the kiss, growing greedier with every moment that passed.

Aziraphale kissed him because it was no great hardship to do so, not when the angel tasted so good and when after all, he had wanted him for so long. He almost lost himself to the kisses, was well on his way to pretending they were something other than what they were, when Crowley reached down between his legs, fondling the smooth skin there.

“Don't...”

“Tell me what you want here,” Crowley said. “I want you to like it.”

Aziraphale gritted his teeth, reminding himself that it didn't matter, not really. Flesh was flesh, even if Crowley's touch left him with a shiver of exaltation and awe. It didn't _matter._ He thrust his own hand down between them, batting Crowley's aside.

Aziraphale formed himself a cunt, a barren opening that should serve well enough, but then Crowley was slithering down his body, moving to situate himself between Aziraphale's thighs. He bit back a shiver as Crowley planted soft kisses, one after another across Aziraphale's bared belly and then over his thighs. The angel's touch felt too good by far, and that was before Crowley slid his thumbs down alongside his slit, pulling him just the barest bit open.

“Oh, this hardly looks right,” Crowley murmured. “Did no one teach you how to do it properly, demon?”

“You wanted a hole to fuck, so fuck it, angel,” Aziraphale growled, and then he gasped when Crowley leaned in, dragging the flat of his tongue along Aziraphale's smooth slit.

“No,” said Crowley between licks. “I think I won't. Not yet...”

He spread Aziraphale open and tongued him deeper, the slow hard licks forming new topography under his heavenly will. Aziraphale groaned as nerves grew dense and thick, as Crowley shaped a clitoris from flesh that had been featureless before.

“No,” he gasped, digging his fingers into Crowley's hair. “Please, don't...”

Crowley ignored him, and Aziraphale stiffened as Crowley's mouth went softer and sweeter. No. He didn't want it like this, but Crowley only leaned in further, nuzzling the soft flesh as if there was nothing he liked better. There was no way for Aziraphale to resist the pleasure Crowley pressed into him, no way to ignore the sizzle of electricity and need that sparked through his corporation.

“Don't,” he whispered, and Crowley leaned up to look at him.

“That's not what I want to hear,” Crowley said flatly. “If you truly want this to be a rape, Aziraphale, I can arrange that.”

He didn't, and Crowley nodded, going back to pass long sweet licks over Aziraphale's new-formed clit before he spoke again.

“I want to hear you,” he said. “Tell me who I am.”

“Dominion,” Aziraphale said, his eyes closed and his head tilted back on the grass.

“No, I don't think that pleases right now. Say my name.”

Aziraphale swallowed back a cry as Crowley eased a finger inside him. There was no force to it, nothing but a smooth wet slide. It wasn't just the angel's saliva that smoothed the way, and he shook with the humiliation of it.

“Crowley,” he whispered, and Crowley laughed softly, kissing his thigh.

“Oh, yes, I do like that. Again.”

“Crowley!”

He couldn't stop himself, not when Crowley was licking him again, and fingering him as well, thrusting two fingers rhythmically into him. He couldn't stop his body from tensing, couldn't stop the pleasure from drawing him tight and making him shake. It was nerve and skin and need, all tensed and obedient to Crowley's command, and Crowley wanted him to want this.

“Pretty demon, _my_ demon,” Crowley crooned. “Tell me you love this.”

“I... I...”

Crowley's fingers crooked brutally inside him, rubbing hard against something that made him go tense immediately.

“ _Hurts...”_ Aziraphale hissed.

“Then you should give me what I want.”

Crowley's fingers gentled, but he circled the spot he had assaulted with threatening care. Aziraphale dug his fingers into the ground underneath him, desperate and lost in a way he hadn't been before.

“Crowley...”

“Come on.”

“I love this,” Aziraphale breathed, eyes shut tight. “I love this.”

“Oh, very good.”

He dipped his head again, sealing his mouth over Aziraphale's clit, sucking with just enough force that Aziraphale had to bite his lip. His hips bucked up against Crowley's motions. He couldn't help the way he moved or the soft sounds that were leaking from between his clenched teeth. He wanted to keep his pleasure back from Crowley, but he knew he couldn't. It still didn't make it any easier when his body finally betrayed him and the pleasure took control.

“Tell me,” Crowley hissed, and Aziraphale didn't control that either.

“I love this,” Aziraphale whined. “I love this, I love this, Crowley, I love this...”

The pleasure broke over him, leaving him a shuddering humiliated ruin on the bare ground, but Crowley wasn't done yet.

The angel swept his thumb through the sopping mess of Aziraphale's cunt to settle it directly over his clit. Aziraphale cringed back, but Crowley's touch was insistent, just shy of too much over his sensitive flesh.

“Tell me you love me,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale froze.

“I _won't,”_ he whispered, shocked to his soul.

Crowley shrugged, and pressed hard against his cit, grinding his thumb against the swollen and oversensitive flesh. Aziraphale started to cry out but Crowley reached up with his free hand to slap his mouth.

“If you rouse the others, I will not help you,” Crowley warned. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

Aziraphale shook his head wildly. He couldn't. He wouldn't. He might have been a demon, but he hadn't ever...

“Come now, Aziraphale,” Crowley said, rubbing now. Oh, it _hurt._ It was too much, far too much, past pleasure and into pain, as if he were being scoured, _scourged_ , and tears ran down his face

“Come on, they're just three little words. That's all. That's all I need, and then I'll let you go. I just want to hear those... three... little.. words...”

Aziraphale's mouth filled with blood as his teeth clicked over his tongue. It hurt, but it helped clear his head. It was blood. He would rather swallow blood than tell Crowley like this. He would rather _drown_ in it than...

“Tell me, _please...”_

It was the _please_ that did it, that coupled with the longing in Crowley's tone. It made his eyes fly open, and he was speaking before he could stop himself.

“I love you,” he whispered in shock, and Crowley pulled his hand away.

Aziraphale sagged back to the grass with an unhappy relieved sound, his eyes shut. In that moment, he didn't care if Crowley left or if he called the other angels as he had threatened to do. He was almost surprised when Crowley came to sit next to him, touching his shoulder gently.

“Here, let me see that...”

Crowley took his injured hand. Aziraphale had almost forgotten about having broken it. Now he winced as Crowley healed it for him, a flood of angelic magic stealing away the hurt and leaving it whole. He sat up, flexing his hand uncertainly as he put his clothes back.

“Good as new,” Crowley told him. “Like it was never broken.”

“No,” Aziraphale said. “It _was_ broken.”

“It's mended now,” Crowley insisted. “It doesn't matter any longer.”

He could tell that to Crowley it was one and the same. Maybe it was, if you had never fallen. Nothing couldn't be fixed. Nothing was so broken it could not be saved.

There was a gentle whisper of feathers as Crowley brought his dark wings out, sweeping one around Aziraphale's shoulders and bringing him closer. The angel's wings were warm, the angel's body even more so.

“Another hour, maybe two, and it'll be the darkest part of the night,” he said. “I'll see you down to the border then. From there, it'll be just another few hours to Byblos, as the crow flies”

Aziraphale was silent.

Crowely touched his face gently. He thought the angel might say something then, not an apology, but an explanation, an excuse, _something_ that would soothe things between them, or at least make sense of them.

Instead Crowley leaned in and kissed him, sweet and secret, tender as if this was the only real thing and the rest was false. Aziraphale stiffened, and then, because he was a demon, because he was a fool, because he had, all unwilling, said nothing but the truth, he kissed Crowley in return.


End file.
